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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705713">The Cell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum'>InnerSpectrum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [90]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompt, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:53:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of Sherrinford, Mycroft Holmes has slipped deep into his mind palace while trapped in Eurus's cell. He's gone in so deep Anthea is unable to reach him. Only those who fit a certain criteria can get him out of his own head now. And Anthea is about to learn whether Greg, who made his way into Sherrinford for his own reason, fits the criteria.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anthea &amp; Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes &amp; Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [90]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1090899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts: Glass</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“Oh, um. Mycroft – make sure he’s looked after. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Gregory Lestrade had not bothered to tell Sherlock Holmes he had already made arrangements to ride with Eurus’ escort. Anthea and a sizable contingent of Mycroft’s people had arrived and resecured the fortress from those under Eurus’ spell. Having Sherlock's input helped, but Greg was headed to Sherrinford regardless.</p><p>The Holmes Brothers had faced their worst demon and it turned out to be their own sister.</p><p>Greg knew this sister was behind the explosion earlier at Baker Street. He knew she was behind John Watson being chained to the bottom of a well. He knew she was behind why the ever stoic faced Sherlock Holmes was so shaken to the core that even he could see it. He knew that Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft Holmes’ being locked in Eurus’ former cell was her revenge.</p><p>It was enough to go on, yet not enough at all.</p><p>When Greg first stepped from the lift into the main control room of the fortress, Anthea was barking orders. The usually soft-spoken voice that fooled the unsuspecting into thinking her a dim thing Mycroft kept around because she was beautiful now had an edge that brooked no argument. While Mycroft was down, she held the reins of British Government in her manicured hands and the might of that power was on display. Tomorrow she’ll fall back into her PA persona. Tonight, she expected to be heeded and she was.</p><p>Yes, Gregory Lestrade was a well-respected detective inspector within London’s Metropolitan Police, but he had no jurisdiction here. Any legal reason to be ended once the helicopter that brought Eurus Holmes back to Sherrinford had lifted from the ground at Musgrave. The existence and maintenance of Sherrinford were at pay grade levels well above his own. He had not so much as heard of the place until that night.  He did not care. That was not his reason for being there. His reason was very personal and very private.</p><p>Mycroft Holmes was the enigmatic older brother of Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft was a posh, three-piece suited man who wielded immense power deep behind the political shadows. Much like Sherrinford, Mycroft Holmes was a man whom he would have never known existed were if not for Greg's professional association with the World’s Only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes.</p><p>The insanely intelligent “Iceman” was a man who did not hide his opinions that he considered most of the world to be goldfish intellectually, in comparison to himself and his brother. It took nearly a decade for their strictly professional acquaintance to evolve to the friendship they now shared. He was a man who held romantic entanglements in much disdain, having more than once called them a disadvantage. Which was a problem as Mycroft Holmes was the man with whom Gregory Lestrade was very much in love. Even if Gregory was the only person that knew. That unrequited love was why Gregory risked his career coming to Sherrinford uninvited.</p><p>Anthea’s eyes had flared briefly in surprise before she schooled her face as he approached. Greg allowed her to march him into a large office with a glass wall and closed the door. He blatantly turned his back on the evidence of someone having been tied to a chair and ignored the blood splattered wall behind it.</p><p>Greg knew Anthea was about to try to tear him a new one. He did not give her a chance.</p><p>“I don’t give a bloody fuck about whatever it is you’re doing here, Anthea. I want to see him. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p>He had no idea what his face looked like as the two silently sized each other up. He did not care. All Gregory knew was that he was not leaving until he saw Mycroft Holmes for himself and that he was okay.  Whatever she saw must have been enough as Anthea finally nodded.</p><p>Partially afraid that too much stimuli from multiple people would cause Mycroft to retreat further; partially, and mostly, because neither he, nor Anthea, wanted anyone else to see one of the most powerful people in the free world at his most vulnerable; Anthea had sent Greg in alone.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“I’ve never seen him under this long before. He’s passed where I can bring him out. Mycroft should be brought out by someone he loves like y…” Anthea stopped and shook her head wildly, as if mentally rewinding before she spoke again, “…like his parents, who can’t be brought here, or Sherlock who stayed with John before I knew how deep his brother has slipped. Even if I called Sherlock now, he is still over an hour away.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He had not had time to really think about the details; nor to ask about the things he knew she was not saying to him. She had learned the art of saying everything and yet nothing from the best. Greg knew Anthea would not tell him.</p><p>“MAINTAIN DISTANCE OF THREE FEET”</p><p>Greg automatically stopped as he saw the words. Even before he had fully acknowledged the words frosted onto the glass walls, he had heeded its instruction. He imagined it was a Pavlovian response whenever anyone entered the cell for the first time.</p><p>Greg had been informed of the motion sensor; still he was slightly startled when the lights suddenly clicked on to a brighter wattage in both chambers of the cell once he stepped off the lift and it closed behind him.</p><p>He ran a rough hand over his silver hair and rested it on his neck. A quick glance around told him all he needed to know about the cell. Greg suspected the lack of stimulation in the room was done on purpose, but he shivered, nonetheless. The starkness of the featureless grey and glass cell unnerved him.</p><p>The ruminating stopped at the sight of the man on the other side of the glass.</p><p>“Oh Mycroft…”</p><p>The daunting mental walls that held up the fortified mind of Mycroft Holmes had shattered like glass under the tortures of the day, now well into the late night.</p><p>Greg placed a hand on the glass. He could see the prints where others have banged on the glass to get Mycroft’s attention to no avail. There were scuff marks of various attempts to access the inner chamber, but the thick bullet proof glass walls remained.</p><p>Greg knew he was one of the very few people who made it past the cold exterior that Mycroft displayed to the day-to-day the world to see the tightly restrained passion that Greg had come to learn existed beneath. It showed now in the utter stillness of the man who sat on the floor at the foot of the bed of this glass and grey cell. Eyes that normally saw everything stared unblinkingly ahead at nothing. </p><p>Mycroft had retreated into his own mind when everything outside of it became too much even for him to bear.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“How bad is it, Anthea?”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“He was able to destroy the inside camera so there’s no visual feed. We were able to eventually shut off the audio feed into the room once we had control. That’s how you were able to speak to him earlier, but Eurus…. She had various audio left on loop. The voices were convincing… Voices of the few people close to him. Convincing screams of their torture... Convincing cries as they begged for their lives… All the while with her going into vivid detail of what was allegedly being done to them and taunting him with his helplessness, his hubris to care for them, his failure to save them… The things she had claimed she did to… You…you really don’t want to know the details...” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Greg remembered then that Mycroft Holmes cannot forget things. His memory would have stored any audio with the same clarity as something visual within his mind. Though the audio in the cell was finally shut off, whatever Mycroft had heard in the hours before hand was already in. The memories will get pushed to the far recesses of his brilliant mind eventually, but it can never leave.</p><p>It truly was the worst thing his sister could have done to him.</p><p>Greg had been surprised by the only show of real emotion he had ever seen from Anthea as she had visibly shuddered before she continued.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“Mycroft knows we are here, but he had been trapped with that audio for several hours and knows he will be there until we reach the assistant governor or get very lucky. He took himself down nearly two hours ago by best estimate. Since I’ve known him, he’s never been in his own mind this long or under such circumstances. Until he comes out, I honestly don’t know, Lestrade, and frankly that worries me. Mycroft needs someone that he…” Anthea stopped, glanced at Greg and took a breath before she spoke again. “I have to stay up here to monitor things. Maybe…you can reach him.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He had no idea what he could do, but try.</p><p>“Mycroft...?” Greg called out to the still figure on the other side of the glass. He was not surprised by the lack of response.</p><p>Mycroft had sat on the floor in a modified lotus pose: his hands on his thighs, his ankles crossed. Even here, his posture was perfect. The only clues that something was amiss was the open top button of his shirt and the loosened tie. For a man always impeccably dressed in three-piece suits and pocket watches, this was near slovenly.</p><p>Greg then noticed the hand prints and marks on the <em>other side</em> of the glass wall. The evidence of Mycroft himself having tested the resiliency of the cell he designed. Mycroft had successfully destroyed the camera to stop visuals of the cell from going out to the control room. He had used pieces of the metal to scratch at the glass wall. Greg saw marks near the speakers where Mycroft had tried, but was unable to stop the audio.</p><p>“Lestrade, we have access.” Anthea’s voice came through the speakers after a while, “Ears only…”</p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>He understood the reminder: they could hear them in the control room, but not see them.</p><p>A section of the wall near the hatch smoothly slid open. Greg did not step in fully until he had taken off his trench, balled it and placed it on the floor at the threshold, to ensure the panel would not fully close on them.</p><p>“Mycroft...?” Greg again called softly out to the man as he slowly approached.</p><p>There was no response; he hadn’t expected one.</p><p>Greg lowered himself to the floor and matched the position of the much too still man. Other than the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, Mycroft was motionless. Greg took in the features of the man in front of him. The sharp jawline, the pressed lips…  Greg quietly sighed at the faint trails on the face that gave evidence to the eyes that had cried at some point in the tortures of the evening. It was disconcerting to look into the blankness of Mycroft’s familiar slate eyes, in the knowledge he was not seen.</p><p>And Gregory Lestrade wanted to be seen by Mycroft Holmes. Not just as a work associate. Not just as a friend. He wanted so much more from this man he could not have with an entirely different type of glass wall between them.</p><p>Though not a problem now, Greg recalled when John and Sherlock had first become flatmates and Sherlock went into his own mind palace for the first time in the doctor’s presence. John had unwittingly made the mistake of shaking the unresponsive Sherlock. Watson sported a lovely shiner for a week for his troubles.</p><p>Thus, it was a struggle for Greg to keep his hand to himself. A hand that wanted to brush away the cowlick that had dared to come free and fall upon the Iceman’s forehead in a soft swirl. Greg could not help but smile to himself at the discovery that Mycroft’s hair, when not worn slicked back into submission, was wavy on its own.</p><p>“Hey you. I’m not sure if what’s going on in there is better that what’s going on out here. It’s a beast I know; but it’s time to come out now and face it regardless, my…” Greg paused in realization of what almost slipped from his lips and quickly corrected himself, “…friend.”</p><p>For a moment Greg thought he saw a spark of something. Not movement, but a subtle shift in the color of Mycroft’s eyes. Maybe it was hope on his part; maybe desperation on his part, he continued to speak. </p><p>The next time he saw the spark he knew what it was. He started to ramble then; he knew that he was, but he could not seem to stop as he then threw caution to the wind.</p><p>Greg stared into the familiar eyes as he reached out and placed a hand on Mycroft’s. Mycroft did not move, yet Greg sensed – something – within Mycroft had changed.</p><p>He instinctually knew his presence was somehow registered. Greg took a celebratory breath. It was as Anthea had said…</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“Mycroft needs someone that he…” </em>
  </p>
  <p>“<em>Voices of the few close to him.” </em></p>
  <p>
    <em>“Mycroft should be brought out by someone he loves like y…”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Greg softly gasped at all the things Anthea had said, but most importantly, had <em>not</em> said. All the things that he had not had time to think about in the moment, now flooded his mind in crystal clarity. He now understood the real reason why Anthea sent him in alone.</p><p>Yes, she was very close to the man and could have brought him out in the early stages. But Mycroft had gone in deep to escape it all. Only the people that Mycroft loved could reach past that emotional glass wall to him now.</p><p>The stress of the situation had Anthea rattled just enough that she slipped up and left clues. She knew that Gregory fit that criteria, but she couldn’t tell him.</p><p>But now Greg knew.</p><p>Greg reached out and cupped Mycroft’s chin.</p><p>“Come on, Love. Come to me.”</p><p>One moment, Mycroft was deathly still, then he blinked.</p><p>In the next, Mycroft took in a deep breath as those blue grey eyes focused on the world, and on the exhale, Greg knew he was back.  </p><p>Mycroft’s brows furrowed as his mind rapidly tried to fill in all the missing information it could, of the events of the past hours.</p><p>Greg put a finger to his lips, then pointed to the speakers as he stood. He then held out his hand and pulled Mycroft to a stand.</p><p>He was about to let go, but Mycroft held on tight.</p><p>Greg looked up at the wretched sound that came from Mycroft. He knew whatever frail string that had barely held Mycroft together throughout this was about to snap.</p><p>Greg silently opened his arms and Mycroft all but threw himself into them.</p><p>Mycroft grabbed him in a desperate hold, put his head on Greg’s shoulder and then wept.</p><p>With one arm tight around Mycroft’s waist, Greg pulled the shaking body of the man in close. His hand rested on the back of Mycroft’s head, as his thumb caressed a cheek. The two simply held each other as Mycroft slowly released all the torture of the past hours out of his system onto Greg.</p><p>It said everything that Mycroft let himself be seen like this in front of Greg. Still, Mycroft could not look at Greg when he lifted his head after a few minutes.</p><p>Greg silently took Mycroft’s hand and led him out of the inner chamber of the cell. As Greg picked up his coat he could see Mycroft’s relief to be on the freedom side of the glass wall.</p><p>Mycroft’s usually smooth voice was wrecked and glottal, but grateful and filled with wonder when he spoke at last, “You’re here… With me.”</p><p>“Yes, I am. Truth be told, I have been for quite some time…” Greg took Mycroft’s hand in his, “…and I will be for as long as you want me.”  </p><p>Both men fully understood neither man referred to their physical location.</p><p>Mycroft stared at Greg who knew he was being deduced. With the confidence of having nothing to hide, Greg reached up at last and smoothed back Mycroft’s cowlick and mussed hair. He then rebuttoned Mycroft’s shirt and fixed the tie properly. Greg knew the moment Mycroft acknowledged the unspoken between them when Mycroft accepted the warmth of Greg’s hand in his with a nod.</p><p>Greg gave Mycroft’s hand a squeeze then let go and stepped back with a nod of his own.</p><p>The few people in the world that knew Mycroft well, would see the cracked edges of the façade Mycroft now pulled around him like a glamour.</p><p>But to the rest of the world, the Iceman was back.</p><p>Mycroft took one last look at the cell and cleared his throat. “Anthea!”</p><p>“Sir!” The relief in Anthea’s voice was near palpable. Greg practically heard her smile.</p><p>“Get us the hell out of here.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!”</p><p>Greg may not yet know Mycroft Holmes as well as he wants to, but he knew Mycroft was in no condition to deal with overt declarations of love. The metaphoric glass wall between them was gone but this was neither the time nor place for such to be spoken of for the first time.</p><p>Greg knew the words would be spoken between them soon enough. And once spoken, those words would be more clear and more resilient than the glass wall left behind.</p><p>It was enough for now to simply <em>know</em>.</p>
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